The Comeback Kid
by couchbarnacle
Summary: Sherlock hasn't always had such firm control of his emotions. One impulsive day at university spells bad news for our budding consulting detective.


"Welcome back, mate." Victor Trevor crowed happily pulling his university roommate into a firm hug.

Sherlock felt his entire body thrum with excitement. His heart seemed to squeeze and swell simultaneously as the older boy pulled him close. Sherlock had never before felt this way about someone else. Victor was simply fascinating. They'd met the semester previous in Advanced Chemistry and Sherlock had been captivated to find someone who almost matched his level of competence in the field. They'd been drawn to each other like opposite poles on a magnet. Within the first week of course work, Victor had approached him on assisting with some research that he was working on for his thesis and Sherlock had jumped at the chance to delve further into the field. They worked well together, feeding off of each other's ideas and challenging the assumptions of the other. It didn't actually matter that Victor was the TA for the course and that Sherlock was incredibly young to be in a Fourth Year course at only eighteen and Trevor was in his first year of grad school. All that mattered was their brilliance when they worked. After a month of working together, Sherlock had abandoned the University's dorms altogether and moved his belongings into Trevor's flat off campus. He hated interacting with those woefully under-educated idiots and had been spending most of his nights on Trevor's couch anyway. He'd moved in to the small second bedroom with a pallet on the floor and yet he still spent most of his sleeping hours on the couch if only so that he could spend more time with the other man.

Sherlock was intelligent enough to know that what he was experiencing physiologically was a bit more than just friendship. He'd have to be a complete dimwit or have the intelligence level of that idiot Sebastian not miss the blaring obvious clues his body was throwing out. In the same way that he'd never interacted with another human being this frequently, he'd also never had to deal with possible carpal tunnel at the rate of wanking over the past six months. But, as always, his body was simply transport and it wasn't something that was overly worrying. It was frustrating, however, at how it was cutting into his experimentation time.

And he was sure that Trevor felt the same. He knew that he was considered objectively attractive by the general public. His features were symmetrical, he had wide-set eyes, a thin, athletic build. Not to mention the many times he'd have to spurn the advances of others. But with Trevor, it was different. Trevor liked him. I mean, no one had spent that much time with him before. No one had made plans to meet for lunch or coffee. No one had kept a computer open for him at the lab so that he would have a place to work. No one had ever tried to get him to watch useless TV shows. Trevor had even taken the time to help him with that insipid Literature credit where he had to write a ten-page essay on the motives behind Jane Eyre. No one had ever done any of those things so, surely, he felt the same way. He was probably just worried about the age difference. Trevor was always incredibly proper like that. He spent way too much energy on conforming to social standards. It was something that drove Sherlock completely barmy, but no matter how many times Sherlock lectured him on the uselessness of the action, Trevor was determined to always err on the side of social norms. That's why if anything was going to happen, Sherlock would have to be the one to initiate it.

His entire body seemed to radiate heat as he felt the smooth muscles underneath Trevor's shirt. Trevor was truly a wonderful specimen. He was just a bit taller than Sherlock but where Sherlock wavered on the edge of being nothing but elbows and knees, Trevor was a study in lean, tight muscle. He had short, close-cropped dark brown hair and bright blue eyes that seemed to glow when he was talking about Chemistry. He was tan with a pair of slightly thin lips that Sherlock was determined to kiss until they were completely bruised and swollen. He pulled back to take in the slightly red cheeks of his friend and felt the impulse overwhelm him practically forcing him to lunge those few inches to press his lips firmly against Trevor's.

And it was perfect. The sensory overload sent skitters of electricity through his entire body. The feel Trevor's lips and faint traces of coffee tickling Sherlock's taste buds sent so much blood racing south that he felt lightheaded. It was everything and still he wanted more. He didn't just want to taste Trevor's lips, he wanted to taste his tongue and explore his mouth. He licked at the seam of Trevor's lips and was pushed back so roughly that he banged his elbow roughly on the countertop.

"What the hell are you doing?" Trevor asked aghast as he backpedalled away from the younger man.

"I…well…I thought…" Sherlock fumbled feeling his insides clench painfully and his entire face flood with heat.

"What?" Trevor squeaked. "No…eww, gross…Sherlock…no."

"Oh." Sherlock said quietly. "I…ah…"

"I'm not a queer." Trevor said firmly. "Fuck, Sherlock. Don't do that again."

"Right…sorry." Sherlock said unable to face the other man and feeling his insides liquefy.

"Don't do that." Trevor said firmly. "Christ…"

They both fell silent for several minutes before Trevor seemed to shake off the moment lightly and asked, "Are you ready to get back to work in the lab?"

"Yeah." Sherlock coughed. "Yeah, let's go."

Everything slipped back to normal relatively quickly. They worked together through the end of the semester and Sherlock stayed on over the summer to assist with several research projects for the department. It was amazingly dull work but in return the faculty let him work on his own experiments with the lab equipment so he was satisfied with the arrangement. He still lived with Trevor but he didn't again voice his feelings or urges keeping them locked away tight behind a façade of professional disinterest. Even the wanking had taken on a morose sort-of resigned feeling but he didn't want to cut ties with Trevor either. Trevor was the first person who seemed to accept him as a friend. He didn't mock his deductions or seem overly concerned by his strange experiments. Sherlock didn't want to give up their friendship so he was determined to stuff away his unwanted feelings. Sherlock couldn't bear the thought of being alone. Even as a child, he'd preferred company if only so that they could marvel at his genius.

It was mid-July when things became a bit more blurred. Sherlock was curled up on the couch with a text on identifying remains based on their bone structure when Trevor stumbled into the apartment. The date had not gone well then. Trevor had become the poster child for trolling for women almost five nights a week. He seemed to be bringing a new girl home at least twice a week causing something uncomfortable to burrow in Sherlock's abdomen but the feeling was easily pushed aside. Tonight had obviously digressed into a night where he just got shit-faced at the nearest pub.

"Hello, Trevor." Sherlock drawled barely glancing up from his book. He was just finishing up his chapter when Trevor tugged the book from his grasp and threw it on the floor. Sherlock glanced up confused and felt his entire body twitch with desire as Trevor clambered on top of him straddling his hips and pushing him against the sofa cushions. Sherlock gulped and was just about to demand what the hell the older boy was doing when Trevor buried his face in Sherlock's neck tugging Sherlock's hand forward until it was cupping the older man's obvious erection.

"I know you want to." Trevor slurred. "I want you to too."

Sherlock's brain short-circuited as Trevor moved his trapped hand over his dick roughly causing his flatmate to moan deeply into Sherlock's neck. Trevor began unzipping his trousers with his free hand keeping up the friction with the younger man's fingers at the same time.

"Please, Sherlock." Trevor gasped. "Please."

Sherlock was at a complete loss for what exactly he was supposed to do in a situation like this. He was fairly certain that this did not fall within the boundaries of "strictly friends" that Trevor had enforced several months ago but Trevor felt so wonderful against his skin. He wasn't actually comfortable with the request but he didn't want to lose Trevor as a friend and maybe this is Trevor's way of admitting that he has feelings for Sherlock as well. Maybe he feels the same. Maybe he cares about Sherlock the way Sherlock cares about him.

With that thought echoing in his mind, he finished pulling Trevor's cock out himself and began stroking firmly relishing the feel of Trevor bucking against his hand and moaning into his neck. Trevor was already so aroused that it didn't take long before he was writhing deliciously on Sherlock's lap causing Sherlock's own erection to swell in response. After a few more minutes, Trevor's entire body tensed and he groaned as he came forcefully all over Sherlock's hand and shirt-clad stomach. Trevor stayed there panting for several seconds before pulling back to tuck himself back in.

"Thank you." He panted. "I was so fucking horny. Thanks, mate."

Sherlock felt his stomach churn as the older man stumbled to get away from him and retreat to his own room. The genius practically leapt up from the couch and ran to the bathroom to strip off his semen-stained clothes and step under the scalding water to scrub clean. He quickly worked to delete the sickening feelings drizzling over his heart letting his own erection wither. He exited the shower after the all the hot water had run out and retreated to his own room binning his clothes in the process. He curled up on his bed and spent the rest of the night reading and pushing away the whole incident.

The next morning Trevor didn't mention the handjob and Sherlock didn't either, but the older man did seem to spend more time with Sherlock that day. They went out to lunch and Trevor kept him company as they worked in the lab.

Things settled down again but not for very long. It was only two weeks later that Sherlock found himself pinned to the sofa by Trevor's intoxicated form once again.

"Off, Trevor." Sherlock growled pulling his hand away from the drunk weight.

"Why?" Trevor teased.

"Because." Sherlock huffed. "I want you to get the fuck off me."

"Come on." Trevor moaned. "We both want this. What's the big deal?"

"I don't." Sherlock said shoving at him.

"Yes, you do." Trevor said not budging. "You like me."

"Fuck off." Sherlock said again.

"This is great for both of us." Trevor said slipping his own hand between Sherlock's legs and rubbing gently. "You want my cock and I like the idea of you sucking me off. You're already half-hard so there's no point in trying to deny it."

"You're disgusting." Sherlock said finally pulling away and wriggling off the couch.

"I was only trying to do you a favor, Sherlock." Trevor growled. "Honestly, I'm just trying to be your friend."

"That isn't what friends do." Sherlock said roughly.

"It's what friends with benefits do." Trevor slurred backing the younger man up against the wall shoving the younger man's hand over his cock again. "We could do that. I'm not queer, but I do have needs. You could help me out when I'm horny and I will continue to be your friend."

"Are you honestly saying that you'll stop being my friend if I don't suck you off?" Sherlock asked completely shocked.

"Don't even try to pretend that you don't want to." Trevor said and Sherlock could detect the faintest traces of anger in the drunk's voice. "You want this. It's pathetically obvious. Honestly, everyone knows how you feel about me. The way you follow me around and write parts of my thesis for me. Everybody knows that you want me to butt-fuck you so bad you are practically salivating for it."

Something very similar to rage and very similar to devastation raced through Sherlock's veins as he shoved the drunk back watching him fall into the coffee table. Sherlock grabbed his coat and keys and left the flat quickly as Trevor shouted after him.

"You'll never have friends, Sherlock." Trevor was screaming. "You're just a gay freak!"

0000000000000000000

"You're drunk." Sherlock sneered at the form of his flatmate.

"Sorry." John murmured curled up on the couch. "Does it bother you?"

"I detest drunks." Sherlock said bordering on uncivil.

"I really am sorry." John said quietly burrowing deeper into the cushions.

"Why exactly did you decide to drink an entire six-pack in an hour?" Sherlock huffed angrily ripping off his scarf and tossing it on his chair.

"It's one year." John's small voice whispered. "One year today that I got shot and was sent home."

"Oh." Sherlock answered quietly.

"I am sorry." John said pulling himself up off the cushions to head to his room. "I'll just go upstairs."

"It's fine." Sherlock said feeling something heavy in his chest.

"Are you alright?" John asked curiously swerving his way. "You seem a bit out of sorts."

"I'm fine." Sherlock answered briskly.

"No you're not." John said with the slightest slur. "You've got that wrinkly frown line between your eyes. That always means that something's not right."

"Are you trying to deduce me when you're drunk?" Sherlock asked slightly amused.

"If not for any other reason than it's sure to amuse you." John giggled a bit. "Seriously, what's up?"

"Why do you care if I'm okay or not?" He asked.

"Because I'm your friend." John said leaning against the desk just inches away from the detective.

"Not colleague?" Sherlock huffed a bit.

"You're never going to let me live that down, are you?" John asked exasperated.

"No." Sherlock said.

"So, what is it?" John asked. "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing." Sherlock shrugged. "Just got an invitation to attend the retirement party of one of my professors from University. It's complete rubbish. I'll just throw it out."

John leveled a stare at him again before smiling slightly and asking, "So when is it?"

"Two weeks." Sherlock answered feigning disinterest.

"I'll have to get my suit pressed." John said absently as he turned to head up to bed.

"We're not going." Sherlock called after him.

"I wonder what kind of gift card he wants." John mused as he pulled himself up the stairs.

"Seriously, John." Sherlock huffed. "We're not going!"

000000000000000000

"I can't believe you're making me do this." Sherlock huffed. John stood in front of him adjusting his tie. Sherlock had long since deleted the information as unimportant since he detested the things.

"I'm not making you do anything." John said quietly. "We can get out of these suits and order a take-away if you really want."

Sherlock stared at the army doctor for several minutes before sighing heavily and reaching for his coat. John placed a light kiss on his cheek before following suit. They got a cab and Sherlock talked incessantly about the work he did with this professor throughout his time at university to try to cover up the nervous tension thrumming through him. He thought he was doing an admirable job until John reached over and squeezed his fingers lightly. Sherlock felt his whole body flinch with apprehension. He knew exactly who was going to be there tonight. It was impossible that if he was invited that Trevor wouldn't be. After that night, Sherlock had moved out and back into the dorms but Trevor had started a rumor that he'd kicked Sherlock out because he came onto him. Needless to say that Sherlock did not have a good start to his second year. The only relief he'd had was working with this professor on his forensic chemistry research.

They pulled up to the location of the party and Sherlock tried to shake off the tension but failed miserably. They walked in and John offered to take their coats and get them some water. Sherlock roamed around the outskirts of the room just observing the hundred or so people assembled. John returned and they chatted with his old professor for several minutes before dropping off the gift card and finding a couple of seats for the dinner. John chatted amiably with the other people at the table while Sherlock stayed quiet scanning the crowd nervously. The dinner went off without a hitch and Sherlock felt better having his doctor's hand resting lightly on his thigh under the table. John excused himself to answer a page from the hospital before the slideshow began and Sherlock felt his blood run cold as a familiar form weaved through the crowd to collapse on a chair next to him.

"Hey, mate." Trevor smiled. "I didn't realize you'd be invited."

"Obviously." Sherlock quipped glancing away.

"So, I was right then." Trevor said continuing to smile darkly.

"Right about what?" Sherlock asked rolling his eyes.

"Still don't have any friends." Trevor said gleefully. "Still a freak. I've read about you in the paper. The corpses seem to be the only things that will spend time with you."

Sherlock rolled his eyes again but felt a lump form in his throat making it impossible for him to compose a scathing reply. Sherlock felt the beginnings of a blush on his cheeks when a familiar pair of hands came down to rest on his shoulders comfortingly and a strong voice called out, "Excuse me, but you're in my seat."

Sherlock felt his anxiety and tension evaporate at the gaping expression on Trevor's face as John bent down to kiss him lightly on the temple.

"Sorry," John said quietly. "I didn't mean to take so long but I got a page about a patient."

"It's fine." Sherlock shrugged. "I was just catching up with an old friend."

"Really?" John said curiously. "You are?"

"Victor Trevor." The stuttering voice said quietly. "Who are you?"

"Dr. John Watson." John answered smiling. "So what do you do?"

"I work as a professor at a prestigious university." Trevor said haughtily.

"Hardly." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "You never completed your doctorate."

"How?" Trevor asked.

"You would have introduced yourself as a doctor if you had." Sherlock answered feeling every ounce of self-confidence return as he read the past 17 years on his old flatmate's face. "You're currently teaching high school level chemistry to GED students after being blacklisted from every college after falsifying your data. You currently live alone and have been divorced for at least ten years with your wife taking almost all of your property due to the indiscretions you've entertained with prostitutes. Well done you. Now please go away the slideshow is starting."

He smiled a bit darkly as the older man scuttled away and John dropped back into his chair and took the genius's hand in his own. They watched the slideshow like that and sat through Dr. Werner's speech patiently. They left shortly after that and Sherlock was giddy with excitement and relief. They'd barely got into the door before John and pulled him close and kissed him senseless.

"I heard what he said." John said quietly. "That bastard."

"It doesn't matter." Sherlock said capturing his doctor's lips again.

"It really doesn't." John smiled against his lips. "Because you're so much more than he will ever be."

"It's not that I'm better than him." Sherlock answered honestly. "Because I obviously am. What makes it not matter is that I have you. Proof that everything he said was wrong."

John's eyes met the detective's squarely for several minutes before he kissed him reverently, "You do have me. I love you."

"And I love you." Sherlock answered quietly before leading the doctor back to his room determined to show John just how much the doctor means to him.


End file.
